The Samartian's Daughter
by WhenILookAtTheStars
Summary: I first knew that Marcus Honorius was not my father when I was twelve. “You may take the mare out into the green if you wish, Viola...you handle a horse excellently.” My mother said softly, “Just like your father.” Marcus Honorius did not ride.
1. Prologue: The Birthday Mare

**Title:** The Samartian's Daughter

**Genre:** Action Adventure/Romance

**Rating:** PG (may go up)

**Summary: **I first knew that Marcus Honorius was not my father when I was twelve. "You may take themareout into the green if you wish, Viola...you handle a horse excellently." My mother said softly, "Just like your father." Marcus Honorius was a man of god who had never gone near a horse in his life.

**A/N:** I do not own anything here except for Viola. And, as always, be gentle in your reviews. Flames are not friendly.

* * *

**:Prologue: **

**The Birthday Mare**

I first knew that Marius Honorius was not my father when I was twelve. My brother had received a beautiful mare for his birthday. Even at the age of ten, Alecto pored over his books and locked himself away with his studies. To say the least, the lovely animal was left quite alone till I took the liberty of freeing her from monotony.

She had to be a thoroughbred. Her sleek coat and proud trot distinguished her from the soldiers' less impressive steeds. I led her out into the dilute sunlight that soaked the courtyard. I would never be allowed to go beyond the walls of our home. It was forbidden to me.

My knuckles turned white as I mounted her and gripped the reins, trying to calm her. The mare's tense muscles rippled between my legs till finally she grew used to the sound of my voice. Gently I started her at a trot about the sandy yard. She tossed her head with impatience, as if wanting as much as I did to gallop into the fields.

Before the temptation to canter out the gates and into the mountains became too much, I slid off the animal. She snorted as if insulted by my abandoning her. I turned to face her snout and smiled into her russet eyes. She was indeed a striking animal.

"You may take her out into the green if you wish, Viola," Came my mother's voice.

I turned to see her standing not far by. Her dark curls contrasted with her royal blue toga. They were as illustrious as when she was young but her face had grown pale and taut. However, a faint spark of beauty still lit her countenance when she smiled.

"You handle a horse excellently." She said softly, "Just like your father."

Marius Honorius was a man of god who had never gone near a horse in his life.


	2. Necessary Sins

**:I:**

**Necessary Sins**

I wanted to see how long I could get away with it.

The sun peeked in through the heavy curtains beside my bed, prying at my eyelids with its greasy fingers. I could almost hear Marius roaring at how it was beyond him why God had given him such a languid daughter. Supposedly, I would burn in hell for my sloth. My father did not seem to understand that human beings needed sleep. I was sure that God would forgive me of this necessary sin.

I heard the soft approach of feet on marble. In my half wakened state, I thought it was my brother coming for comfort because he'd had a nightmare. When I felt the wet tongue of a dog begin to lick my hand, I realized that Alecto had not had a bad dream since he was seven and that it was Bear who sat on his haunches beside my bed, waiting for me to wake up.

I turned over on my side and squinted into the face of my dog. He was nothing grand; a mutt with a grey shaggy mane and watery eyes. He barked loudly making me wince.

"Even _you_ won't let me sleep," I grumbled as I threw my legs over the side of the bed and tip toed across the cold floor to the washstand.

I dressed and bounded down the stairs toward my mother's sitting room. She and Marius's steward Craden had managed our estate for years. They dealt with the overt expenses of the master of the house, organized papers and tying together the fragile threads of our life.

We were the farthest known Roman estate, settled in the hills of northern Britain beyond the Wall. There were none for miles, except for native Picts and Woads who occasionally attacked but mostly left us alone. Usually they watched us with angry eyes from their homes in the woods and by their stone circles; waiting for the day the land would once again be theirs.

The morning sun bloomed in my mother's room. She loved the light almost as much as she loved life itself. Windows faced from three walls, bathing my mother's world in an unearthly glow. She sat serenely by the east wall, her pen scratching across the parchment rhythmically. She was the smartest person I knew. My brother Alecto had inherited this trait from her.

She suddenly became aware of my presence, floating bits of dust trembling about her face as she looked up and smiled. My mother always had a smile for me.

"Viola," She stood gracefully, everything about my mother was elegant.

She kissed me on the cheek and led me over to her writing table. Papers and notes were strewn everywhere with calculations for the prices of crops and number of rows needed for a good harvest. My mother was a master of numbers.

"Your father expects your studies on the scriptures to be concluding soon," She said softly, sitting and beginning to neaten the disarrayed piles.

I sat opposite her and rested my hands in my lap. I despised working in the dank chapel, copying paper upon paper for hours. Like our mother, Alecto thrived with his pen. Meanwhile, I was clumsy with my fingers and wrong handed. Brother Joseph had gone so far as to tie my left arm behind my back and force me to pen a whole page with my right.

"It cannot come sooner," I mumbled looking up from my lap out the window.

The strange season between autumn and winter had descended upon the land. The grass, still green with summer, bloomed beneath waning trees. The mountains surrounding our valley were dusted with white.

"You are almost a woman," My mother broke the silence with her strange statement.

I turned back to see her gazing at me. She searched my face with quiet dark eyes, the fine lines that creased her mouth filled with sunlight. I almost caught a glimpse of what she was like long ago before she was 'mother' and 'wife' but simply; Fulcinia Porteous.

She stood, shattering the moment as she crossed to the west window and gazed down into the courtyard. I followed and stood beside her. Her husband could be seen below. Marius was yelling at a guardsman. He raised his hand and let it fall down on the unfortunate soldier who limped away.

"Your father has made a decision that will change your life, my daughter." She spoke, her words holding an open ended question.

Before I could ask what that decision was, I heard a familiar voice in the doorway.

"Good morning,"

Alecto stood in the sunlight. He was nearly fifteen with a strong jaw and my mother's eyes. His dark hair was Marius's but he was nothing like his father. Where Marius was foolish, temperamental and frivolous, Alecto was wise, patient and practical. Once Marius died, Alecto would set the estate to rights if he stayed on in Britain. Yet it was a known fact that he was the Pope's favorite godchild. It was my father's hope that he would go on to become Bishop. It was my mother's that her son would stay with her.

My mother crossed the floor to her son, "Good morning Alecto."

I followed with a wide smile. My brother was my best friend. Though we were two years apart, we were close. Our personalities were like snow and frost; at once different, yet similar.

"I've come to fetch Viola to chapel," He spoke, his voice beginning to change into the tone of a man.

I let out a groan and arched my eyebrows. My mother chuckled and pushed me to the door.

"Go on, Viola," She stated, "We shall speak of this later."

I nodded and followed Alecto down the hall.

"Mother says I am almost finished," I said, walking beside my brother.

"That should be a relief," He answered with a chortle, "God knows how you suffer," He added sarcastically looked over at me coolly.

I gave him a little shove and a grin, "Oh go on. The brothers treat you as though you were the boy Jesus himself."

"Don't let father hear that, he'll accuse us _both_ of blasphemy."

"Never a more true statement." I whispered as we entered the quiet of the scribe room.

A few brown hooded monks sat meekly at desks; busy with their work. The silence was so heavy it almost felt a sin to breathe. We retreated to our appropriate seats and said no more. There would be no conversation till evening. I played with one of my curls till Brother Joseph approached. He was a small man with smaller eyes yet to underestimate him would be a grave mistake. Once mistake on a piece of parchment and he'd slap your hand and make you start all over again.

"My lady," He said his muddy eyes blinking furiously as if he were looking into the sun, "Your father tells me that this is to be the last of your days with us. After your studies today, you are no longer required to return."

I had not known my liberation would be so soon. I tried not to break into a smile as the elderly monk showed me the papers for the day and gave me new parchment.

* * *

Though we were in Britain, we ate our meals like Romans. Reclining on our couches, Marius Honorius looked like a beached seal. Like most nights, he spoke the prayer and we ate in silence. However, this evening, something was different. It felt as though something were going to be said. Unknown words waited on the edge of the prickly quiet.

I tried to drown out the silence by eating ravenously, finishing each course before even my brother.

"Slow down, daughter," Marius said, setting down his goblet, "I don't need you getting fat, especially not now."

I looked over at my mother who neatly broke a piece of bread and dipped a side into the honey. She glanced up at me and nodded her head. I slowed down but chewed loudly to block out the quiet.

"Viola, if you will not control yourself-" Marius began but was interrupted by a guard who entered awkwardly.

"My lord," The guard gave a gauche nod of the head to his master and then to us.

"Yes what is it?" Marius asked irritably, speaking with his mouth full, "Why do you disrupt our meal?"

"My lord, you have a visitor," The guard replied, beads of sweat beginning to decorate his forehead.

"Who and from where?" Marius inquired, refilling his goblet.

"It's the elder from the village,"

Marius looked up with amusement, "The serfs' leader?"

"Yes my lord."

"And he expects me to drop everything so I may have a conversation with him, hmm?" Marius gave a mirthless chuckle.

The guard did not reply but shifted his weight gawkily from foot to foot.

The silence that followed was thicker than the one that had coated the room earlier. I looked over at Alecto, who had stopped eating as well. The only sound came from Marius who noisily slurped the wine from his cup.

"Tell my visitor," He answered, "That I shall be with him momentarily."

The guard gave another nod and left the room. Marius chuckled once more and set down his cup. He gripped its neck with white knuckles.

"I shall be back shortly." He said, brushing off his toga as he stood and made his way over to the door.

"Please don't. Take your time," I mumbled, bringing a piece of fruit to my lips once he had left us.

Alecto stood after a few moments and walked to the window.

"Come back to your food, dearest," Mother said, setting down her bread.

"They're down there in the courtyard." He stated, ignoring my mother's command.

"What is going on?" I questioned looking up at my brother.

"The old man is talking, father isn't saying anything." Alecto's expressionless face recounted, "Father is laughing but the old man isn't. Father waved his hand to dismiss the old man but he's not moving. Father is growing angry. He's yelling now." Faintly I could hear Marius shouting, "He's motioning to the guards. The guards are hitting the man-"

"Alecto, get away from the window," My mother said sternly.

I could hear strangled cries coming from the courtyard. I clenched my fists so tightly I could feel my nails dig in my skin. Alecto stood for a few more moments saying nothing. Suddenly he turned and walked back to his couch. He was shaking with rage.

"They're beating the Village Elder." His voice lilted with anger.

Nothing else was said till Marius returned at which I excused myself. I would not sit at the same table with him.

A fire burned in my room, giving off the only light. I lit a candle and retrieved the piece of polished brass that served as a mirror. I held the flame to my face and looked into my reflection.

I had my mother's straight, strong nose dusted with a few freckles. My mouth was thin but the lips red, like my mother. Yet the rest of me was unrecognizable in either my mother or Marius. My brow was direct and dark, and my eyes blue grey. My hair fell in dark auburn waves to my elbows. I sighed a breath of thanks to god.

Only a few of my features were my mother's. The rest I could not distinguish in her or her husband.

I could not be the daughter of Marius Honorius.


	3. The Bowels of Hell

**A/N: wow, i don't think i've ever gotten eight reviews in just one chapter and a prologue! thank you guys so much! this definitely motivates me to continue the story!**

**Mustang Gal: **lol, yah i know next to nothing about horses. thank you so much for the heads up about the thoroughbred thing! I will remember it in the future! and if i make any other horse mistakes, please don't be shy to call them out on me. i'd appreciate the help!  
**sugar-skyline: **thank you for your double review! and i will positively try to meet those high standards! if there is anything you see in any of the chapters that needs some work, let me know (:  
**katemary77: **I'm sorry the prologue wasn't very long but I hope you like this next chapter!  
**Sheiado:** i'm glad you liked the story so far and the unique plotline. I sort of decided that if i was going to do a longer King Arthur story it was going to have to have a different idea i could work with. i hope you like this chapter!  
**Blue Eyes At** **Night:** lol, i see i've peaked your interest! i promise to continue this story so your questions can be answered, deary!  
**ephona:** thank you for your double review! and you shall see who her father is in due time!

* * *

**:II:**

**The Bowels of Hell**

"Viola,"

My mother's voice drifted through the black as I awoke. I slowly opened my eyes, believing I had slept late, but found that I was wrong. Night still reigned heavily upon the world.

"Viola," I looked up to see my mother hovering over me. She wore a cloak and her hair lay loose on her shoulders, "Get dressed."

The tone of her voice was urgent and hurried. I did not question it as I stood and reached for my toga. Mother helped me fasten the pins at the shoulders, covering my under dress with its midnight blue folds. Her hands were shaking.

"What is the matter?" I asked quietly as she handed me a covered basket.

"I heard your father talking," She answered softly, picking up my cloak and tying it about my shoulders.

"What did he say?"

She took my hands in hers and looked me directly in the eye, "Do you have a weak stomach, daughter?"

"No."

"You father has been keeping innocent people in the old arms cellar, where the door is locked from the inside. He has been having them starved and tortured."

I felt pin pricks at the base of my skull and my face redden with horror, "W-why?"

"He says it is for their own salvation. Yet they are merely those who would not do his bidding." She explained, walking over to the door, "I refuse to stand by and watch." Her voice was low and dangerous.

I needed no explanation as to what we were doing. I followed her out into the quiet hall, our bare feet whispering on the dusty floor. It was the coldest hour before sunrise. Mother held a covered torch in her hand as we made our way along the dimly lit halls, down further and further till we reached the kitchen cellar. Dried vegetables and herbs hung from the ceiling, giving off their scent of dirt and forgotten summer. She stopped before a deep impress in the wall.

"Your grandmother showed me this passage when I first came here as a bride," She said handing me the covered torch, "Incase the natives ever attacked." She grunted as she pushed with her shoulder on the wall.

It gave slowly, groaning as it cracked open, giving us just enough room to slip through.

"I do not believe that your father ever knew of this place." She whispered, taking the torch from me and uncovering it. The flame flickered against the walls of the cellar.

Quietly, we slipped into the tunnel. It was a thin, rectangular passage with thick air and many shadows. The torchlight bounced off the forms of mice as they scurried past our feet. Neither of us were afraid of rodents and somehow I felt that what lay before us was worse that any rat.

We walked for what seemed an eternity till mother stopped abruptly. We stood quiet for a long time. I tried to quiet my breathing, though I swore the beating of my heat could drown it out.

"Here," My mother spoke, just below a whisper.

She knelt to the ground, handing me the torch. I looked down to see a half a door, rotted and locked in the wall next to us. She drew a rusted key from the folds of her cloak and opened it, the hinges crying out with years of neglect.

"Stick the torch in the wall so we can use it to return to the kitchen cellar." She ordered softly, crawling into the tunnel.

I obeyed and followed on my hands and knees, pushing the basket ahead of me and trying not to breathe the acrid air. When my knees and hands felt as though they were to fall off of me, I heard mother's voice.

"We are almost there."

Suddenly, the tunnel joined a larger way where water ran through. We splashed into the bitter current, the light at the end growing brighter. I guessed that this was a drain heading out from the vault and found that I was correct as we emerged into the cellar. Mother stood immediately while I took a moment to regain my senses. However, I wished I had not the moment my nose grew accustomed to the smell of the room.

I stood and looked about, as equally stunned as my mother. The smell of rotting flesh and feces was strong, making our eyes water and stomachs lurch. In the dim light, the forms of inhuman figures could be seen hanging from walls and decaying in caged alcoves. I could not see how any of them could be alive.

Mother turned to me and grabbed my arm to get my attention. She then pointed to a small stair leading up from the horrors. The sound of snoring drifted down into the darkness. I guessed that that was where the monks watching over the souls of these people would be sleeping. How anyone could rest in such a place I did not know.

Mother took the covered basket from my hand and opened it to reveal an abundance of bread and a few casks of water. She handed me a few and nodded. We set to work, searching the alcoves quietly for the living and checking the pulses of those who hung from walls. I heard mother let out a cry of quiet surprise from by a row of holes I had thought vacant. I rushed over and looked down through one of the iron barred niches. A child was crouched at the bottom, his eyes full of surprise at seeing a new face.

"You must not speak," My mother said quietly, sliding her small hand through the opening and taking the child's fingers, "You must not be frightened."

While she handed the boy two loaves of bread and one of the water skins, I noticed what seemed like an unoccupied alcove. I walked over and peered into its darkness. Thinking it was empty, I turned to leave when I saw a form against the wall. I stopped and squinted.

"Hello," I whispered, "Is anyone in there? I won't hurt you."

At the sound of my voice, a girl's face appeared in the wavering light. It was pale and small, her face lined with dirt and blue paint. I recognized her immediately to be a woad; not for the markings on her countenance but for the fire that smoldered in her weary dark eyes. She looked the same age as I.

I snaked my arm through the grate, holding out both a loaf of bread and water cask by the handle. She drew back suddenly, like a singed cat. Yet the sight of food was too much for her to bear. Her hand flew out and took the water cask. She tore it open and drank greedily. When she was done she glanced back at the bread in my hand. Slowly, she raised her arm and drew the loaf from my fingers, our hands touching for a moment. She nodded thanks, not taking her eyes off me.

A sudden sound came from the staircase. It was Latin being chanted slowly.

"In nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis et in virtute Spiritus Sancti…"

"Viola!" My mother whispered harshly, as she rushed over to the tunnel.

I gave the girl one last look before I followed.

"Exaudi orationem meam…"

I felt my breath catch in my throat as I went onto my hands and knees in the freezing water. I could still hear the mumbled Latin as we waded farther away, making our way back toward the living. I felt as though I had just escaped from hell; resisting the temptation to look back and make sure no avenging demons were following.

We did not say a word till we were far away from the kitchen cellar, our togas soaked and dirty and our faces raw with dust and tears.

"Viola," My mother said, turning to me as we stood before my bedroom door, "Remember what you saw this evening and know that your father is not a man of God and never will be."

With that she walked down the hall back to her own room.

Once inside the safe, familiar confines of my bedroom, I sank to the ground shaking. I do not know how long I cried. When I woke, the sky outside was grey with dawn. I stumbled up, undoing my cloak and toga and letting them drop to the ground. I collapsed on my bed and fell asleep in moments. My last thought before slumber took me was of the woad girl's eyes; scared and angry in the hell my father had created.

* * *

"Your father wishes to see you," My mother said.

The fire in the hearth was bright, its golden light trying it's best to erase the memories of the night before. However, it had not succeeded. At the mention of my father, I felt an immediate rush of rage.

"What does he want?" I asked evenly, walking to the window. The sky was steel grey with threatening snow.

"He will tell you," My mother answered.

A single streak of grey decorated her dark hair. Her toga was the color of berries, like the kind my brother and I used to pick for her when we were children. She was bent over her work, her pale hands scurrying across the pages of numbers. We had not spoken of the old arms cellar.

I did not say anything as I left.

Marius sat by his own fire, holding a letter in his hand. His embroidered toga glinted gold on the edges.

"You asked to see me father," I spoke, announcing my presence and spitting out the words like sour wine.

He looked up and set the letter down, "Yes, Viola. Come sit." He waved me over.

"I'd rather stand," I replied, my light blue toga wavering slightly as I took a step back.

He looked up abruptly, "You will do as your father wills you to."

I hesitated a moment, my body unwilling to do what my mind said. I walked slowly over and sat myself on the edge of a high stool by the fire.

"I have been keeping correspondence with the Centurion Marcellinus," He spoke, his voice even as he lifted a cup to his lips, "He is a great man with a long military heritage. His estate in Gaul is widely known for its prosperity." I wondered what this Marcellius had to do with me as I listened, "Though he is rich and has no need to marry for money, he is looking for a wife."

His last word hung despondently in the air. Wife. That was his game. Marius intended to sell me as a marital slave to this old soldier from the mainland. I held my tongue as he continued.

"He is willing to meet you and make marriage negotiations." Marius set down his cup and looked over at me triumphantly, "Well? Aren't you proud of your old father? Arranging a betrothal so smoothly?"

I stilled the fire on my tongue as I held my head up, "I will not marry this man." I answered evenly, "I do not even know him."

"You will know him and you will marry him, daughter." Marius spoke in a low tone, "You will do as I say."

"I will not be your pawn to gain prestige and wealth," I answered standing.

"Viola, you walk on dangerous ground," My father stood, meeting my height, "Disobedience is a sin and disobedience to your parents is the worst of all. God will turn his back on you-"

"I will not be lectured to by a hypocritical pig who dare calls himself a man of god!" I cried, unable to hold back my tongue.

Marius's hand suddenly lashed out and struck me across the cheek. The silence that followed was more terrible than anything before. I held my head high, my face burning and eyes beginning to prick with tears. I walked away from the man I had called father and down to the stables.

I could stay no longer.


	4. Irony

**:III:**

**Irony**

Mother must have seen me storming from Marius's study. Angry tears threatened to overtake my eyes as I was envelopedin the familiar warmth and scent of the stables. I had adopted the horse that was originally my brother's as my own a few years before. I named her Boudica for the ancient Iceni queen who nearly drove Rome from Britain hundreds of years before.

I reached for my saddle and started to prepare Boudica for a long journey. The house of Marius Honorius was riddled with worms and rot; evil and shadowed. To stay would be to kill me. Neither would I marry the Centurion from Gaul. Not because I had something against the man himself, having never even met him, but I would not play a puppet to Marius. Not any longer.

"Viola," My mother said loudly.

I turned to her figure by the door. The hood of her cloak covered her curls that were pulled up except for a few strands that framed her face.

"What are you doing?" Her questioned urgently as she rushed over to me.

"Leaving, mother." I stated, picking up a nearby saddle bag.

"You will do no such thing." She replied, taking the bag from me and throwing it to the ground, "You will not leave me."

"I do not leave for you!" I cried, the tears finally coming, "I leave because I cannot stand to be in this house any longer! I leave because I will not be dictated to and expected to love a father I cannot even respect! I leave because I cannot stand by and watch as he tears apart the lives of innocent people!"

"Do you think it's been easy for me?" She replied, taking my hands, "Marius has been like this for years, yet I stay. I stay! For you and Alecto," She cupped my damp cheek with her fingers, "I stay because I love you. Do you not love me as well?"

I threw my arms around her neck as she embraced me.

"I do mother," I answered with a soggy voice.

"Then stay my daughter."

Suddenly hurried footsteps came running into the stables. I looked up to see Alecto panting with his hands on his knees. I let go of mother as we stood and waited for him to speak.

"Strangers on horses," He managed, "Sarmatian knights, I'm certain." I felt mother stiffen beside me, "At the gates."

"It is a wonder you have come!"

I followed my mother and brother as we emerged onto the rampart overlooking what lay beyond the gate. Sure enough, proud horsemen on grand steeds watched as Marius came out to greet them.

"Good Jesus!" Marius cried, clasping his hands as if in prayer, "Arthur and his knights!" He reached out to stroke the mane of one of the knight's horses. The animal retreated from his touch.

So, these were the great Sarmatians. At Marius's statement mother took my hand. I stood between her and my brother who watched with wary eyes.

"You have fought the woads? Vile creatures."

"Our orders are to evacuate you immediately." The Roman called Arthur spoke plainly.

I looked over at my mother to ask what he spoke of. However, I found that her eyes were fixed upon the knights. She looked as though she had seen a ghost. Her grip on my hand tightened.

"T-that is impossible," Marius stuttered.

"Which is Alecto?"

Surprised to hear the name of my brother come from the mouth of this great leader, I turned to him.

"I am Alecto." He replied in his firm, loud voice.

The knights turned their gaze upon the wall where we stood.

"Alecto is my son," Marius said, his arms rigid at his sides. Alecto turned and started down from the rampart. I followed, still holding onto my mother's fingers, "And everything we have is here, in the land given to us by the pope of Rome." I heard Marius state as we walked down the stairs.

"Have you ever seen them before, mother?" I asked in awe of the grand figures at our gate.

"Once," She replied in a wavering voice, "When I came here as a bride. They accompanied me to your father's house." The word father seemed to come reluctantly from her lips.

As we came out from the gate I could hear Marius arguing with Arthur. I still did not know why we had to depart.

"I refuse to leave." Marius stated foolishly. As we approached, I noticed his hands were trembling slightly. I wondered what had been said.

The man called Arthur was even grander up close. We had all heard tales of the horsemen and their leader but I never had seen them. Arthur was a man tall in the saddle with dark curls and a clearly Roman face. He held a kingly air of authority that made me understand why Marius was shaking.

"Go back to work!" Marius cried to the gathering villagers who stood watching the events unfold, "All of you."

I looked down at my feet in shame as the soldiers began to push and beat them to get back to work. Suddenly, the urge to leave that I had felt earlier returned full force. This was why I wished to go. I could not stand by and watch.

I felt my heart jump to my throat as Arthur dismounted and approached Marius. My father was dwarfed by the mighty warrior. Marius retreated slightly as Arthur came close.

"If I fail to bring you and your son back, my men can never leave this land. So you're coming with me if I have to tie you to my horse and drag you all the way to Hadrian's wall myself, my lord," Arthur's voice was reminded me of the low growl a dog gives before it attacks. I inwardly wished he would follow through on his threat, "Lady, my knights are hungry." The soldier said, turning to my mother.

Mother reached out to Marius to retrieve his blessing.

"Go," Marius brushed her away with his hand.

Though I wished desperately to stay and see what unfolded, my mother took my arm and tugged me toward the gate. Reluctantly, with a last look to Arthur, I followed. My mother's hood fell back as we came into the courtyard. Her face was more pale than usual and her breathing was shaky.

"What troubles you mother?" I asked, unable to see why leaving this accursed place would bother her.

"Nothing," She whispered, as we came into the kitchen that was already abuzz with the news of the knights.

Eventually I found out from the servants that the reason why we had to be evacuated was because of an approaching Saxon army that was taking land and killing people as they went. The Romans would not send a retaliating army to drive them off. I was not surprised. The Rome was once was, was decaying. Barbarians were taking over every corner. It would not be long till the city itself fell.

I did not realize that Alecto had not followed us till he returned back to the kitchen.

"This Arthur is a great leader," He said, helping with one of the baskets of food, "But a strange man with stranger philosophies."

"We can speak of Arthur Castus later," My mother ordered, "Now we must pack our own belongings. We are leaving this place."

I chuckled as we made our way from the kitchen. The irony of this day was almost too much to bear.

Bear followed me, barking, as I led Boudica out from the gate. I had few belongings that I treasured here; a necklace my mother had given me on my fifteenth birthday, a small carved figure of a woman that my brother and I had found in a nearby creek bed, a doll that I had slept with all through childhood. My mother had packed my clothing with hers in a trunk that was now being loaded unto one of the carts. Except for my doll, the figure and the necklace, I brought nothing.

The drive was aflame with activity; Men and women running to and fro readying carriages and carts, animals raising their voices in a cacophony of sound. The snow that was falling steadily did nothing to help the chaos. Boudica gave a chary whiny and retreated slightly. I held tightly to her rein and turned to face her. Her eyes were darting with confusion. I looked back to see mother and Alecto approaching. I also saw something that greatly frightened me.

A few monks were being ordered and watched by several soldiers as they blocked up the opening to the old arms cellar. They were entombing the woad girl and the child! I ran toward mother, Boudica trotting behind me and Bear barking at my feet.

"They are blocking up the cellar!" I cried, taking her hand and nodding toward the door that locked from the inside.

Her face went white as she looked back toward Arthur.

"You must say something," She whispered urgently, "Go tell Arthur Castus."

I nodded and started over to where the commander sat on his horse by the gates, watching the pandemonium with calm eyes. His attention turned to me as I came near.

"My lord," I began, laying my hand on Boudica's neck lightly, "I am Viola, daughter of Marius Honorius." I pointed back to the cellar, "They should not be doing that." It sounded ignorant coming from my lips but Arthur's attention was caught as he leant down toward me.

"What is the trouble?" He asked evenly, his green eyes intense and wondering.

"There are people down there," I replied in a low voice.

His eyes grew wide for a moment then he sat back up and walked his horse over to the cellar. I wondered if he had heard me but as he drew his sword and dismounted, I knew he was going to do something.

As he approached, the soldiers foolishly attempted to block his way.

"Move." Arthur ordered, pointing the blade toward them, "Move."

The Sarmatians rode forward, a few with their swords out. I made my way back to mother.

"Move!" The soldiers drew back, "What is this?" Arthur asked one of the monks, pointing toward the cellar.

"You cannot go in there." The monk replied, standing his ground, "No one goes in there, this place is forbidden."

Arthur moved the men of god gently aside with his blade. Marius then noticed what was happening.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, approaching, "Stop this!" He was halted by a large bald man with a sword on horseback. That was enough for my father.

I stood with mother and Alecto a few feet away, watching as Arthur touched the stones that blocked the door. A few of the knights seemed to be getting restless and impatient but Roman ignored them. In the distance the constant beat that had been sounding since I came back outside suddenly took hold of my conscious. They were war drums. Saxons. Mother took my hand once again. They would be here soon.

"Dagonet." Arthur stated, motioning to one of the knights, Mother's hand suddenly gripping my tightly.

The large man called Dagonet approached the door. In his hands he held an axe with ease. Mother stiffened beside me as the blade hit the stones. He drew up again and again till finally the wall of stones fell.

"Key," Arthur ordered of the soldiers.

"It is locked," One said, "From the inside."

Arthur gave the knight Dagonet a nod as he kicked down the door. Arthur, Dagonet and two other Knights entered the mouth of the cellar with the two monks. I closed my eyes and looked down, trying to forget the terrible place. Soon, they emerged back into the light, the first Sarmatian throwing a torch down to the soggy ground. Arthur appeared close behind with the Woad girl. I breathed a sigh of a relief at seeing that she still lived.

"Water!" Arthur cried, carrying the girl, "Get me some water!"

My mother needed no coaxing. She approached Arthur and the emaciated form of the girl and helped him as they managed to have her drink some from the cask. She looked worse than she had the evening before.

I noticed that the knight called Dagonet had come out into the light carrying the boy. Without thinking, I went to him and held the child up wordlessly as we managed to have him drink.

"His arm is broken," I said quietly, trying not to move him by his wound.

"And his family?" A man who had brought the cask asked.

The knight called Dagonet shook his head and looked up at me. For a moment, I could not look away. The man called Dagonet was nothing out of the ordinary. A decoration of scars embellished his shaven head and his mouth was stern and unwelcoming. But his eyes were familiar. So familiar it frightened me.

The man called Dagonet had my eyes.

Marius's voice interrupted my thoughts abruptly.

"Stop what you are doing!" He cried, storming forward toward Arthur.

"What is this madness!" Arthur questioned, rising to his feet. My mother cradled the woad girl's head in her lap protectively.

"They are all pagans here!" Marius replied, Alecto watching with dark eyes.

"So are we," A nearby knight answered.

"They refuse to do the task god has set for them! They must die, as an example!" Marius roared.

"Do you mean they refuse to be your serfs!" Arthur shouted, sharp as the blade of his sword.

"You are a roman. You understand! And you are a Christian! You!" Marius suddenly turned to my mother, who looked up with frightened eyes, "You kept them alive!" He cried and struck her hard across the cheek.

I stood feeling uncontrollable rage overtake me, "Do not touch her!" I yelled, but a hand gripped my arm before I could challenge Marius.

I was about to tear away toward him but Arthur got there first. He belted Marius to the ground and held the point of the blade to his throat. I prayed to god that Arthur would finish him right there. Instead he just stood there.

"When we get to the wall, you will be punished for this heresy." Marius spoke.

Arthur drew him up by the cloak and brought the blade closer to his throat.

"Perhaps I should kill you now and seal my fate." Arthur growled.

"I was willing to die with them." I turned my attention to a monk who had emerged from the cellar with them. He was pale from lack of sunlight. He must have been one of the monks who looked over the innocents, "As to lead them to their rightful place."

Arthur looked up slowly in horror at the monk beside him.

"It is god's wish that these sinners be sacrificed." The monk continued, "Only then can their souls be saved."

"Then I shall grant his wish." Arthur replied, the monk fashioning a serene look upon his dirty face, "Wall them back up." For a moment I thought that Arthur meant to wall the boy and Woad up as well. I started to tug away from the gentle grip of the person who still held my arm, ready to fight for these people.

"Be still, maid," I turned to see it was Dagonet's hand that held me, "Worry not."

"Arthur," One of the men on horseback said, obviously ready to ride out.

"I said wall them up!" Arthur cried.

Soon I realized that he meant that only the monks be walled back up in the cellar.

"Don't you see it's the will of god that these sinners be sacrificed!" The monk cried as he was dragged back to the cellar by one of the villagers. Dagonet let go of my arm and knelt to pick up the child.

My eyes followed him as he walked toward the carts. In the chaos that ensued I looked back to my mother where she sat by the woad girl. Her own eyes followed Dagonet as he carried the boy in his arms. When she looked back at me, I held her gaze for a moment.

She was connected to this knight called Dagonet. Somehow, I was connected as well.


	5. Seventeen Years

**A/N: you all must think i have no life since i've put out atleast three chapters of this story in one day. actually, i'm home with the flu and nothing to do, so i've been typing away all day. i'm not feeling so good now but as soon as i'm up to it i'll reply to all the awesome reviews! i seriously appreciate the encourage you guys, its such a motivator! love and tea to all!**

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**:IV:**

**Seventeen Years**

Boudica seemed restless as we rode alongside the cart. I could feel her tensing beneath me; longing to ride off down the long open road and into the hills. She tossed her dark mane impatiently and snorted.

"Hush," I commanded quietly, stroking the side of her neck softly, "Don't fret so."

"Beautiful animal," Said a voice beside me.

I turned to see a young man upon a white steed. I recognized him to be one of the Sarmartian knights. However I was thrown off by his Roman garb with the mail shirt overlaid by brilliant chest armor. I nodded patted Boudica on the neck.

"Thank you," I answered, looking forward into the coming night as we headed east, "However beautiful, she awfully spoilt. She'll soon long for her fine stables."

"As will you," The knight replied.

I turned back; slightly offended for a moment till his playful grin quelled my annoyance.

"It depends on what you mean by 'long', sir knight." I said, turning my gaze back to the road.

"You are the daughter of Marius Honorius, are you not?" He asked, the wind tossing his dark curls from his young face. The messy beard on his chin did nothing to make him seem older. I could not believe him to be over thirty.

"Is it that obvious?" I questioned throwing him a grin.

The knight laughed at this, "Well you don't look a thing like him."

"I shall take that as a compliment," I replied with a pert smile, willing Boudica on ahead to the sound of the young knight's responding laugh.

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_Fulcinia climbed into the cart where the boy and girl were being tended. A villager woman was seeing to the maid but the child was frightened and would not let any near him. Carefully, she drew close to the boy. He retreated with alarmed, wide eyes._

"_Do not worry, I will not hurt you," Fulcinia said quietly, "I have a son, just like you. Yet he is not a little boy any longer." The child's interest was peaked as Fulcinia came closer, "You will not be a little boy always either." She was making progress. Gently she reached out and motioned to his arm. It hung at his side like a broken wing, "May I?" The child looked at her for a moment longer than gave a tentative nod._

_The boy's arm was indeed fractured, but not shattered. It would heal smoothly. After retrieving a cloth from the nearby woman, she set the bone as carefully as possible._

"_You'll want to use these." She heard a familiar voice say and felt her heart jump to her throat._

_With wavering hands, she reached out and took two sticks from Dagonet's hands. _

"_It will keep the bone in place." Dagonet said, coming along the other side of the boy. He laid a large hand on the child's forehead while Fulcinia tended to the boy's arm, trying not to be overwhelmed by the Sarmatian knight's presence, "He has a fever." He stated, cushioning the cart floor so the boy might lie down._

_They managed to have the child be still. Fulcinia found herself glancing up at Dagonet often. How many years had it been? Seventeen since she last saw him? He had been younger and more light hearted then. His face had not been so hard. He had changed. She looked down quickly when he noticed she was watching him. She had changed as well. She suddenly wondered why Dagonet lingered in Britain? He should have been free of his service two years prior. Why did he stay?_

"_What is your name child?" Fulcinia asked softly, brushing one of the boy's curls from his face._

"_Lucan." The boy whispered, eyes becoming heavier till finally he was asleep._

_Dagonet and Fulcinia worked silently, making sure Lucan was comfortable. She sat quietly, mixing together herbs for a poultice to place on the boy's burning forehead._

"_You look well, Fulcinia." Dagonet said quietly, tucking a blanket under Luncan's chin._

_She felt her cheeks and neck burn at the sound of her name coming from his lips._

"_As do you, Dagonet." She answered._

_There was the sound of laughter nearby and they both looked up to see Viola ride past on her chestnut mare._

"_You gave your husband two beautiful children," Dagonet's tone was hushed as he allowed himself to look up at her longer than need be. _

_She was still beautiful to him, with her dark curls loose at her shoulders. When her pig husband had struck her it was all he could do to restrain himself from killing the man right there. Her daughter had obviously felt the same._

"_Thank you," Fulcinia replied as Dagonet looked back down at Lucan, "But I gave Marius only one child."_

_Dagonet sat up abruptly, his heart pounding in his chest at her comment, "What?" He breathed._

_Fulcinia looked up and smiled softly, "Alecto is a good boy, nothing like his father Marius. My husband only sired him."_

_Dagonet felt as though his tongue had been cut clear from his head. She gave Marius only one child. The boy. He looked back outside the cart to see Fulcinia's daughter on her horse. The girl was smiling as a villager handed a child up to ride with her. Her hair was the color of dark honey. His mother had had the same dark golden waves. He looked back down at Lucan, his eyes pricking with tears._

"_What do you call her?" He whispered._

"_Marius knows her as Viola; her Christian name." She looked up at Dagonet, "But I named her Igraine secretly at birth, for your mother…" Fulcinia sat back against the side of the cart, "I used to whisper it to her when she was an infant. She was awful as a baby, more restless than Alecto ever was, always waking up and crying at ungodly hours," She chuckled softly, "Yet, she always went back to sleep fastest when I sang her that song. The one you sang to me."_

_Dagonet felt the lump in his throat harden, "I remember," He replied, looking up at her. She was gazing faraway it seemed, into her memory as she sat with her face pale in the dim light and eyes dark with reminiscence._

"_We will go home, we will go home. We will go home across the mountains…" She repeated the words of the song, looking back at Dagonet._

_For a moment the earth disappeared from under their feet. _

_For a moment, they were young again; young and foolish. Fulcinia was the sixteen year old daughter of Vespasian Porteous, betrothed to Marius Honorius in the north. Dagonet was the new recruit from Sarmatia, eighteen years old and hungry for home, accompanying the young dark daughter of the local roman nobleman. And they fell in love. It never meant to happen, it just did. The evening before they were to arrive at her new husband's home, Fulcinia gave herself to the young knight. They lay in each others arms under the sky and Dagonet sang a song of home to her; a home of bear and eagle across the mountains. They were young, so young. Fulcinia arrived at the Honorius estate and married Marius. She gave birth to a baby girl whose father was not her mother's husband. She named the child Igraine for Dagonet's mother whom she had never met. She named her daughter for the home her true love missed so terribly. She named her daughter so she could keep a piece of him with her. Always. _

_They had not seen each other in seventeen years._

"_Dagonet," _

_Both Fulcinia and Dagonet were broken away from the memory as a knight stuck his head into the cart._

"_Yes Gawain?" Dagonet replied, clearing his throat._

"_Arthur needs you to help the villagers that are lagging behind." And with that the man was gone._

_Dagonet glanced back at Fulcinia once more, who watched him intently with her dark eyes as he made his way over to the front of the cart. How he remembered those eyes. He smiled softly at her than jumped from the cart to the ground._

_Fulcinia turned back to the boy. She was thankful the child was asleep. He did not need to see anymore tears. _


End file.
